Abandoned
by IntoxicatedXtc
Summary: A series of abandoned drabbles, that may or may not get picked up. MugenxJinJinxMugen
1. Novella

Jin. Jin's dieing.

And Mugen, Mugen, he just wants to teach Jin how to live.

With each day that goes by, Jin breaths become a little bit slower. His steps become a little bit heavier. His days, they ended a little bit shorter. Jin, Jin, the one who was always strong, he becomes a lot weaker.

And Jin, Jin just gets more and more tired.

And Jin, he knows. He accepts, he doesn't try and live.

Because Jin, Jin doesn't know how to live.

Mugen's sandals flopped against the wood surrounding the brothel house. His eyes closed halfway, a piece of cattail stuck in between his lips. His head as held high, a combination of boredom and arrogance, as he searches for the next solution to his current fix of mundane living. Everyday was an adventure, spontaneous decisions, and today, he was simply awaiting the opportunity to arise.

And a girl with short brown hair, she runs. Her sandals slap between her feet and the packed sand. Her kimono flies threw the wind as she grows bigger and bigger as she comes closer and closer.

And Mugen, all he can think, is that it's been so long.

Their adventure ended, the chapter was logged in his novel of life. He came, and he went. There were no strings, there were no goodbyes, there was just the closing of one section and the opening of the next. It was life in process.

This girl, she's panting, out of breath, tired.

"What do you want." Mugen commanded.

'It's-It's-It's." Fuu replied.

"Shut up and speak already." Mugen commanded

"…Jin." Fuu replied. Fuu breathed in heavily. Fuu, she was mesmerized.

"W-What?" Mugen asked. Mugen wanted to command, but Mugen, he just couldn't.

"He's…Sick. Something's wrong with him…" Fuu caught her breath. Her voice was smooth, flawless, matured. Fuu wasn't fifteen anymore.

"So. Why would I care what that stupid Samurai does. Is." Mugen was still full of anger like he always was.

Some things don't change.

And Fuu, Fuu, her face a bit older, her mind a bit wiser, she wears this façade of indifference. Her brown eyes a bit smaller now, stay exactly the same – filled with life as it was so long ago.

And Fuu, Fuu leaves.

And Fuu, being Fuu, she didn't need to yell and scream, to fight back for once. She didn't need to try and stop destiny. So Fuu, left. A cloud of insecurity and unexplainable mystery surrounding her, she still knew where Mugen will head.

Her job was done, and she finally ended the chapter in her book.

* * *

When Jin wakes up, it isn't easy for him to. His breath peaks a bit, and his breathing becomes more and more shallow. His small eyes open, as wide as they will go, as he gasps and gapes for air that won't enter his lungs.

It lasts for a second.

And that second, felt like it turned into hours.

And Jin, he finally sits up. His thick white kimono pooling around his hips, growing loose and baggy with each passing day. Jin's hands reaches to the side of the futon, where his spectacles lay dusted and dirty, and place them on the bridge of his nose. His vision is blurred with gray dots, his eyebrows arching, contemplating.

Jin, he breaths in, and his eyes focus. He pushes himself to his feet, not once losing his balance as he pulls on his gray kimono over his white, mixing the shades and forming a monochrome pattern including the shades of his hakama. His vision stops for a second upon two swords, lightning bolts etched on the hilt, before bending back down to pick them up and place them in his red sash.

These swords, there were his life.

The point of his very existence.

He slides the door open and prepares himself for another day.

* * *

Mugen doesn't know where he's heading. Mugen just knows he needs to leave. He needs to search, to find, a bespectacled samurai.

Oh. The irony he thought.

Jin passed through Edo, through Nagasaki, he passed through every little town in every little section of Japan.

Mugen, he really really wanted to kill Fuu right about now. Deliberate displacement of irony. And it's him searching for rumors that float by his ears, and it's him asking for the sight of a bespectacled samurai.


	2. Film

Mugen slides his tongue along Jin's neck – salty and sweet, deranged candy. Strands of his hair are caught in his saliva, sticking to skin like glue. Like added texture. The strands roll underneath his tongue, releasing a small gasp from a mouth so close and yet so far away. Mugen leans forward and kisses that hole in his face, the one guarded by white traps of teeth ready to spring down on any second.

They fall into a scene in a movie.

Stick together, like hair and skin.

Fade to black.

_You keep me wasting time, just waiting for this.._

There lays a mysterious figure standing atop of a hill. His body is enveloped in blue cellophane, and you just can't touch him. And maybe he needs this, this isolation, and abandonment. And maybe he does this on purpose, and maybe he just can't feel anymore. The wind blows, and finally the leaves rain down on the ground, trees are screaming in their silent pain. He dissolves into thin air, and his silence neither confirms nor denies his presence.

And you don't know anymore

What he really wants.

What he really needs.

What this silence means.

_I keep my back to the world, I just want to believe in you._

Jin never tells Mugen he needs him. Jin never tells Mugen he wants him. But somehow Mugen knows. And somehow Jin needs that more than anything. Jin wants someone who understands his silence. Jin needs someone who understands the meaning of silence.

Maybe it's because Jin just can't talk to anyone anymore.

But maybe words just aren't necessary anymore.

_Or anything at all._

There lays a mysterious figure sitting atop of a hill. His body coated in blue ink, reflecting shades of the sky on the texture of his skin. And maybe someone else appears, his hair as big as the world and as easily contained. And maybe he does this on purpose, and maybe he sits next to the other man. The wind blows, and the leaves scatter further amongst them selves; trees are silent in their agony. And maybe these two men stay in silence forever. Occasional statements and responses.

End.


End file.
